Savannah Comes Undone

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CHAPTER ONE

My mother is in chains. Chained to what or forwhat I have no idea.Thomas only said,“Mother is chained

to it.”I didn’t ask.I looked down at the denim bow that tied up my wrap dress.

It was slightly tilted, so I straightened it. Now, the bow is an amaz-ing accessory, the way it holds things together.Tying a bow is oneof the first achievements of childhood. How unfair: a child, learn-ing how to hold things together. I traced the perfectly symmetri-cal loops with my index fingers. I thought of childhood and sanity.

The phone rang. Again. I jumped. I snatched up my ringingsatchel off the hood of Old Betsy and found my phone conve-niently resting on the bottom.

“What?”“Where are you?” my younger brother,Thomas, asked.“I’m on my way.”“You said that five minutes ago.”I plopped into the driver’s seat.“Are you the clock police?”“Get down here now.Are you a human-interest writer or not?”

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00-01-Savannah C U Final pass 5/18/05 9:11 AM

“I am and I’m coming. Just take a breather. I’ll be there in aminute.”

Welcome to my world.The world of Savannah,where a motherin chains for any reason is no great cause for my alarm.

I pointed my declining Saab away from the newspaper officeand toward the courthouse. Something off-kilter hovered in themuggy Savannah humidity. Today I suspected something otherthan the steamy afternoon sun lured people outside their stores,cooling themselves with makeshift fans. I was certain it had to dowith “the woman in chains.”

A plump, elderly, floral blur almost attached herself to my frontbumper.“Watch where you’re going!” I hollered at the closed win-dow. She scampered on up the street, oblivious to the fact that shehad narrowly escaped a lovebug’s fate.

As I tried to pull up to Wright Square—where both Dad’s cof-fee shop and the U.S. Courthouse stand—I encountered an im-passable bottleneck of cars, SUVs, trolleys, and a few unhappy horsestoting gawking spectators. This jam was a phenomenon not evenexperienced on parade day, because cars aren’t allowed into the his-torical district on parade day. But today Savannah had apparentlyplunged into the depths of downright delirium.

I pulled into the covered parking place at the back of Jake’s.My little brother (or rather, younger brother; the child stands six feettall and towers over my five-foot-four-inch frame like a bamboostalk over a tulip) snatched open the car door.

“Vanni, get out of the car! You’ve got to get to the courthouse.”“How did you even see me?”“I’ve been looking for you for fifteen minutes.”“You only called five minutes ago.”“I called you twice.” He grabbed my arm and slammed the

door behind me.Thomas, the only one in the world allowed to callme Vanni, dragged me out of the alley and onto the sidewalk in thedirection of the courthouse.“What were you doing anyway?”

S AVA N N A H C O M E S U N D O N E

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“I have a job,Thomas. An important job. I have things to finishup before I can just run from my office and jump to the streets.”

“Give me a break.You were probably checking your hair.”I would die a thousand deaths before admitting how close he

was to the truth.“Just come on,because you are not going to believe what Mom

has done!”I tried to keep pace with him and actually talk at the same time.

“Trust me, I’ll believe it.And slow down, I don’t run well in heels.”“You shouldn’t be wearing heels.The combination is danger-

ous to society. And trust me, sweet child, you would never haveguessed what you’re about to see.”

We turned the corner and met a scene not witnessed sinceTom Hanks sat on a bench and ate a box of chocolates. I couldhardly even catch a glimpse of the marble courthouse for the massof people gathered around something—or dare I say someone—infront of it.ABC and NBC news trucks had arrived. People milledand jabbered like schoolchildren at recess.

We took refuge from the blazing sun with fifteen other shame-less gawkers under a live oak near the edge of the square.

“She’s in the middle of that, isn’t she?”“You bet your sweet britches she’s in the middle of that.”“Does Dad know?”“Oh yeah, he knows.”“Where is he?”“He’s out there with her.”“Is he angry?”“Doesn’t seem to be.”“Am I going to have to move out of town?”“Move? Are you kidding? We haven’t had this much excite-

ment, since . . . well, since Mom tried to pass that law to neuter allgolden retrievers.”

“I believe the opposition defined her actions as ‘discriminatory.’”

D E N I S E H I L D R E T H

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“You should know”—he gave me a beautiful white smile andwinked a green eye at me—“Ms. Opposition.”

“Just because Duke isn’t a lapdog doesn’t mean she can ruin hisexistence.” I said, looking around for the golden retriever that hadbeen my mother’s nemesis since the day Dad brought him home.“Where is Duke anyway?”

“Tucked away inside Dad’s shop.”“Lucky boy.What did he do? Go potty on her Persian again?”“No, he just can’t endure both this squelching heat and Mom.

A dog can only take so much in one afternoon.” Odd but true:Duke had no idea he was actually a dog.

We moved along the sidewalk that passes in front of the court-house, and a few people parted enough for me to make out thelovely vision I left less than an hour ago after a perfectly normallunch at The Lady & Sons. Her blue capri slacks and floral KateSpade mules came into view before her face did.

“Does she have a chain wrapped around her?”Thomas laughed and folded his arms across his chest.“Yes, that

would be a chain.”“What’s that big stone thing that she’s attached to?” I asked,

not certain I wanted to know.“That, my friend, is a six-thousand-pound stone monument of

the Ten Commandments.”“You are not serious.”“Dead serious. Judge Hoddicks brought it in yesterday after-

noon. Had it delivered right here.”“Who’s he trying to be, Roy Moore?”“Judge Moore called him earlier actually. Right before I left

Judge Hoddicks’s office.”Thomas wiped the beading sweat off ofhis forehead and pushed it up through his short, sun-kissed brownhair.“Judge Hoddicks says the case belongs to the people, not thecourts. So he wants to keep it in the limelight.”

“Is there a reason he’s not chained to it instead of Mother?” I


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watched Mother’s beaming smile shine over all. She flitted herhead from side to side as if she were ringmaster of this circus.

“Well, a suit was filed against the monument and Judge Hoddicksfirst thing this morning by some attorneys from Athens and by theACLU. Judge countersued. Mother suggested the judge take care ofthe legal matters, and she would take care of the monument.”

“You mean public relations.”“No, I mean the monument.”I looked down at my own pretty shoes, trying to avoid the eyes

of the very woman who had purchased them.“And Jake said?”“Haven’t heard yet.You can ask him yourself.” He pointed to

Dad, who was standing on the right set of stairs that entered thecourthouse. He was talking to Judge Hoddicks and smiling.

Dad caught Thomas’s delighted smile and my mortified stareand winked. My gaze followed his secure gait as he walked over tomy mother, whispered in her ear, gave her a kiss on the cheek, andbrought his striking six-foot-one frame our way.

Dad patted me on my shoulder and was about to walk past me.“Where are you going?”

He stopped to smile at me.“Back to work.”“Back to work! You’ve got to be kidding me!” I chuckled. He

matched my chuckle with his own.“No. I’m not kidding.”“You mean you’re going to leave her here, strapped to a piece

of stone, to be aired on the nightly news? Our reputation will beleft here on the sidewalk to be feasted on by water bugs!” I addedextra effect to my statement by crushing the water bug that hadbravely, yet stupidly, made its way to my area of the sidewalk.

He kissed me on my cheek then brushed his hands throughhis slightly graying brown hair.“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m goingto do.”

I stared at the disappearing image of my father as he casuallysauntered back to his world of coffee and calm,khakis and polo shirts.


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My father, at the age of fifty-four, had indisputably gone insane.“But. . . how . . . why?” I turned my face upward.“Why me, Lord?”

“Take it easy,Vanni.You’ve got a story and we’ve got drama,”Thomas said, patting me on the back and heading over to ourmother like an overgrown adolescent enjoying the spotlight.

“But I don’t need drama.” I called out, gesturing to no one inparticular.“Really, I can create my own.Who needs extra?”

But then extra arrived. Amber Topaz Childers, the reigningMiss Savannah United States of America, came up from behindand goosed me. I screeched. She giggled. And her aqua-coloredeyes, a combination of natural brown irises and artificially coloredcontact lenses, made taking her serious very difficult.

“Is this not the most exciting thing ever?” she squealed.“Right up there with an enema,” I muttered.“Right up there with a what?” She crinkled her perfect nose.“Right up there with an evening at the cinema.”“Oh my word. Are you telling me you, Savannah Phillips”—

as if my name were lost on me—“have had more exciting timesthan this?”

“In abundance.”“All with your mother?”“Right at the center of it.”“Are you the luckiest girl alive or what?”“Or what.” I looked at this beauty in her little pink pantsuit

with matching lipstick and earrings. She could have been mistakenfor a flamingo had her hair not been quite so . . . shall we say, lively.But even it was held back with a matching pink grosgrain ribbon.

And with nothing more to say, she flounced along to meet theother present reigning royalty. The former Miss Georgia UnitedStates of America. Mrs.Victoria Phillips.Vicky. My mother.

Every other eye was glued to the vision in blue gracefullychained to a monument in the middle of my city. And in onemoment of horror, the vision saw me and waved. A few peopleturned to see who had her attention. I turned with them, hoping


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it was clear that I didn’t know the fettered beauty in front of me.But then she called my name.

“Savannah, darling. Savannah! Yoo-hoo!” She waved like amaniacal Barbie. Amber tried to help her get my attention. It waspainful for all involved.

I hoped these people would think the woman just wanted to sayhello to her city, Savannah, while the cameras were rolling. I didn’tlift my eyes to check on their potential gullibility. But I did noticemy bow had come undone.And my dress flap had flown open andexposed my slip. I jerked it closed and held it together in my fist.

“This day had better be no reflection of my week to come,” Iwarned the heat. It laughed.Yes, I’m certain it laughed.


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Savannah Comes Undone

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